


It's Tradition

by summerofspock



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Family, First Time, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Jim, Sharing a Bed, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Jim invites Spock to spend Christmas leave with him at his family's cabin on Lake Michigan.Unfortunately, his mom thinks this means they're dating.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 45
Kudos: 631





	It's Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wingittofreedom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingittofreedom/gifts).



> idk if i should gift my work to the person who beta'ed it but this would legit not exist without them so s/o to wingittofreedom, lover of hot chocolate and all things spirk

Fiddling with the wheel of the car, Jim glanced over at Spock again. He was sitting stoically in the passenger seat, pale face illuminated by the passing highway lights.

“Thanks for coming,” Jim said for the millionth time since they disembarked the shuttle in Chicago. And for about the tenth time since they got into their rental and drove onto the highway. The snow had started to fall at some point during their drive and Jim’s focus had shifted to the road. The flurries drifted over the asphalt and made it difficult to see the dividing lines and even though there was very little traffic to be concerned about in the middle of rural Wisconsin, Jim didn’t particularly want to find himself slipping off the road and into a ditch.

“As I had nowhere else to spend my leave, it is I who should thank you,” Spock said, another iteration of the same dismissal Jim had received every time.

“I’m just glad not to have to be alone with Mom and Frank,” Jim said with a grimace. He didn’t  _ hate _ his stepdad but Frank wasn’t his favorite person in the world. Like he was a good dude but he married Jim’s mom while Jim was in deep space a little two years ago and that had never sat right with him. It was always awkward when they were alone and when they weren’t, his mom tried so hard to make them like each other. Having Spock around would definitely be a good buffer. 

Spock raised an eyebrow, the expression so exaggerated that Jim recognized it even out of the corner of his eye. 

This last year his mom had sold the old farm out in Iowa and purchased a cabin on the west shore Lake Michigan near Sheboygan. She’d told Jim about the sale six months after the deal had closed which had resulted in an argument about Jim’s desire to eventually retire to his old childhood farm which was now, unfortunately, no longer in the family. 

“We’re just about 30 minutes out,” Jim said for lack of a better way to fill the silence. It wasn’t as if Spock would be up for playing ‘would you rather’ or the alphabet game to pass the time. 

They’d taken a transport to the docking station in Chicago, a hell of a busy place that had Jim rushing out as soon as possible. He was sure Spock didn’t like it any better. His first officer had never been a fan of crowds any more than Jim was. 

At last, they reached the mouth of the long driveway outside of Cedar Grove, a tiny town with three bars and a market that made Jim rethink how small he’d always considered Riverside. Spock surveyed the surroundings without comment and not for the first time Jim wondered what sort of place Spock had come from. He had a vague idea of Vulcan and Jim thought Spock was from one of the bigger cities. But they’d never talked about it. It was one of those subjects neither of them brought up. For obvious reasons.

They traveled up the long gravel driveway, dotted with patches of snow on either side. The stuff had only started to fall harder the closer they’d gotten to Cedar Grove and where trees didn’t shadow the ground, at least three inches of it had collected as far as Jim could see. 

He pulled into a free patch of dirt next to the shed and turned to look at Spock a final time. “Thanks for coming.”

Spock gave him an unimpressed look. Seemed like a gazillion and one thank yous was the limit. Shrugging, Jim hopped out of the car. Too quickly apparently as the blast of nearly 0 °  wind punched the breath from his lungs like a cold fist. His nostrils were freezing.  _ Jesus _ , lake-effect was a bitch. They could be in for a blizzard if this kept up.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he said, teeth already chattering as he slipped on his jacket.

Before he could grab his bag, Spock had already shouldered it along with his own. Weird. 

Together, they tottered carefully up the frozen steps and Jim knocked on the door as quickly as possible so he could shove his steadily freezing hand back in the pocket of his coat. The door opened abruptly, the wreath hooked over the top swinging with the swift movement.

Frank.

“Jim!” Frank said brightly and Jim gave him his best polite smile. The sort of captainly one that got treaties signed.

“Frank, it’s good to see you,” Jim said as his stepdad pushed open the screen door and ushered them inside.

“Your mom’s just making hot toddies. She wanted them ready when you got here.” Frank turned to Spock who was shaking only a little from the cold outside air. “You must be Jim’s boyfriend. Spock, was it?”

Jim’s mouth fell open. He closed it. Boyfriend? He had decidedly not said boyfriend. Not at any point. Nope nope nope.

“I am Spock,” Spock said with a little bow of his head. The tip of his nose was a pinkish green that gave Jim the absurd urge to give it a boop.

Why wasn’t he correcting Frank?

“Let me show you to your room,” Frank said, taking one of their bags and leading them up a staircase and down a hall to another kitschy room decorated like something out of a twenty-first century log cabin. “You’ll be in here,” he said to both of them.

Both of them.

“Why don’t you get settled and then met me and your mom downstairs for those hot toddies?” Frank said with an easy smile before leaving them to it.

Jim and Spock exchanged a look.

“Do you have a preference on your side of the bed?” Spock asked, already placing his bag on the right side closest to the bathroom.

Jim goggled at him. “Um...no?”

Spock nodded as if that was good enough. What? No comment on the boyfriend thing? Nothing? Spock was so honest all the time — _Vulcans don’t lie_ — and this had to count as a lie. Right? 

“I can take the couch downstairs,” Jim blurted out, feeling his face get hot. 

Spock cocked his head “If you wish. I am personally not opposed to sharing this bed as it is of an adequate size.”

Of course they’d shared beds before. But that had always been on missions and out of necessity, not here in the cozy warm bedroom in his mom’s cabin while snow sifted down outside. Wouldn’t staying in the same room just confirm Frank’s assumption? Did Spock just not care? “Yeah, I…I guess it’s fine.”

Spock carefully moved to the dresser to begin to unpack.“Of course, you _ may _ sleep on the couch.”

“No, no,” Jim said, placing his own bag on the bed to unpack. “It really is fine.”

Spock didn’t say anything, just began methodically removing his meticulously folded clothes and placing them in the top drawer of the dresser. Jim’s packing style, on the other hand, was more like stuffing handfuls of fabric in a duffel so he dumped the contents onto the bedspread and tossed it all in a drawer once Spock finished his organization.

“I believe we should return downstairs,” Spock said with a small inclination of his head.

Jim sighed, a long breath. “Yeah. Mom’s waiting.”

Together they made their way to the kitchen where Winona greeted them with a wide smile. “Jim!” she cried as she pulled him into a firm hug. He’d forgotten how good her hugs were.

When she pulled back she turned to Spock and did a rather poor imitation of a ta’al. “You’re probably not much of a hugger, but it’s nice to meet you. Jim’s never brought a boyfriend home before.”

Blood roared in Jim’s ears. Fuck this was embarrassing. “Mom, Spock isn’t—”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kirk,” Spock said, ever polite.

Winona’s smile faltered for a moment before she said, “Please, call me Winona. I haven’t been Mrs. Kirk for quite some time.”

Spock nodded and Jim looked between them, horror growing with every second. Why wasn’t Spock correcting them? Did he not want to embarrass them? Was this some weird manifestation of Vulcan politeness?

The thing was…the thing was that Jim didn’t entirely blame his mother for her assumptions. During their calls Jim talked about exactly two things, his job and Spock. And maybe, if he were honest with himself, the stories about Spock were probably colored by Jim’s affection for him. And maybe Spock not correcting his mom had Jim hoping some very stupid things. But it was fine. They were here for a week and if Frank or his mom brought it up again, Jim would correct them and that would be that.

His mom pressed a warm mug into his hands. It smelled like cinnamon and rum. His mother herded him back into the living room, Spock trailing quietly after, his own mug in his hands. Did Spock drink alcohol? Jim had never seen him do it before. Frank was already there, busy lighting a fire. Jim took a seat on the couch closest to the hearth and was surprised when Spock elected to sit next to him. Maybe he was uncomfortable around strangers.

His mom curled up in a rocking chair, looking very at home in a way Jim hadn’t ever seen her be in Iowa. It made him almost regret their fight about selling the farm. Almost.

“So,” she began. “I was thinking we could go out tomorrow and find a tree for us and spend the day decorating. I remember how much you liked trimming the tree when you were little.”

Jim laughed and took a deep drink of his hot toddy. He’d loved wrapping the tree in lights and tinsel and choosing the best place for each ornament. He hadn’t done it in years, not having enough leave to manage time off for more than Christmas day itself, if that.

“Do they have anything like Christmas on Vulcan? I know Jim said your mother was human,” Winona said to Spock. Jim cast him a sideways look. He was never sure how much he could discuss Spock’s mom. It was a touchy subject. For good reason.

“The Vulcan people have very few days that would be considered holidays by human standards,” Spock explained evenly. His hands were still wrapped carefully around the blue mug Winona had given him, steam steadily rising in front of him. “My mother was Jewish and therefore did not celebrate the holiday. However, I am educated on its traditions.”

Add that to the list of things Jim hadn’t known about Spock. He was beginning to think that list would get pretty long. Figured that Spock would be the type to make friends first and then share secrets later.

“Oh!” Winona said, eyes going wide. “Jim’s father, George, was Jewish. We never really celebrated the Jewish holidays though. Did your mother?”

“For the most part, yes. She did not expect me to participate,” Spock said before finally taking a drink from his mug. He pulled back and eyed the contents. “Does this contain cinnamon?”

Winona nodded.

“I am partial to cinnamon.”

Another thing for the list.

* * *

The bed was big and Jim was nervous.

He reminded himself that Spock said it was fine, but it didn’t seem to do much when Spock emerged from the ensuite in a tight black undershirt and sleep pants, the lines of his body making Jim feel dizzy with the desire to  _ touch _ .

It was absolutely fine.

The tight black shirt wasn’t riding up just enough for Jim to see the sharp curve of Spock’s hip where it dipped beneath the elastic of his pajamas. Nope. It wasn’t doing that. And if Jim stopped looking at it then he could —

“I’m just gonna…” Jim said and fuck, his mouth felt dry as he scurried into the bathroom with his toiletry bag and sleeping clothes in hand.

He changed quickly and spent an inordinate amount of time brushing his teeth and staring into his own too-blue eyes in an effort to calm down.

“We’re friends,” he said firmly after he shut off the tap. “And what have we learned about trying to fuck our friends?”

He gave himself one last glare before returning to the bedroom.

Spock was already in bed, sitting up against the headboard and reading something on a padd when Jim slipped beneath the covers on the other side. Once under the blankets, Jim realized the bed was huge. There was enough space between them for a whole other person.

So why did he feel so disappointed?

Jim closed his eyes and tried to settle under the warmth of the quilt. It was like any other Christmas spent at home except it was an entirely different house and there was a warm body beside him. 

Who was he kidding? This was entirely uncharted territory.

“If it will not disturb you, I would like to remain awake for a period of time,” Spock said, disrupting Jim’s internal panic.

“What?” he asked, blinking his eyes open. Spock stared down at him, impassive. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I’m a heavy sleeper.”

Spock nodded and turned back to his reading.

Jim laid awake for what felt like hours, only drifting off after Spock had settled in beside him, breath growing even.

* * *

Whatever Jim’s fears had been about sharing a bed, they turned out to be unfounded. When he woke up there was still a respectable distance between him and Spock. So no worries about accidental cuddling or touching.

What Jim hadn’t anticipated was the absolute devastation that was Spock in the morning. Lying on his side, Spock’s hair was pressed up on one side and his face was slack, a sheet wrinkle pressed into the curve of his cheek, the morning light making him look ethereal. Jim’s heart couldn’t take it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to roll away and quietly get out of bed.

The faint smell of bacon cooking reached his nose and he shrugged on a sweater before padding downstairs. Frank was at the stove frying up bacon, already surrounded by plates of eggs, pancakes, and fresh fruit.

“Good morning,” Frank said brightly, his chipper tone making Jim grimace. He needed coffee and he needed it asap.

“Sleep well?” Frank asked, plucking the bacon from the pan and setting the slices one by one on a separate plate.

Jim made an effort not to sound short. “Yeah,” he said, an unfortunate truth. Once he had fallen asleep, he’d slept like a log. “Comfy bed.”

“Your mom will be glad to hear it. She’s been in a tizzy getting the place together for you and your boyfriend,” Frank said, smiling faintly as he watched Jim shuffle to the coffee pot and rub the sleep from his eyes.

Coffee steaming from the mug in his hand, Jim turned back to Frank. “Look, Frank, Spock and I — ”

“Good morning!” Winona said as she entered the kitchen, already showered and dressed in a red plaid and jeans. She looked every inch the mountain woman. Jim guessed she was ready to go out hiking in search of a tree.

“It smells delicious,” she said, plucking a piece of cantaloupe from the plate and popping it into her mouth. “Are we ready to eat?”

Jim cast a glance at the stairwell. “Let me check on Spock.”

“No rush!” Winona called after him before falling into low conversation with her husband.

When Jim pushed open the bedroom door, Spock sat up in bed, looking even messier than when Jim had left him to sleep.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Jim said. God, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

Spock blinked and then shook his head as if trying to rid himself of sleep like a dog shaking off water. “I will change my attire.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. We’re all in pajamas anyway. Well, not my mom, but she’s a morning person. It’s obnoxious,” Jim said, realizing he was babbling in order to cover up the fact that he wanted to run his hands through Spock’s hair and mess it up even more.

Jesus, he was fucked.

* * *

Several hours later, Spock seemed extremely uncomfortable as he shuffled next to Jim, hat pulled down low over his ears and scarf wrapped all the way around his neck, nose tucked inside. All you could see were his eyes, beetle-black and shining from the cold.

“What about this one?” Jim said, gesturing to a balsam fir that looked about six foot. Winona inspected it and then shook her head.

“Doesn’t feel right,” she said, each word a puff of white fog forming in the cold.

Jim cast Spock an apologetic look. “You know, you can go back to the cabin,” he said in a low voice as Frank pointed out another tree to his mom who shook the snow off one of the branches.

“That is unnecessary at this time,” Spock said through chattering teeth. The strip of skin Jim could see under his eyes was turning steadily green as Spock hunched his shoulders, shuffling as he tried to jam his hands deeper into his coat pockets. He probably thought this whole thing was an illogical waste of time, all this trudging in the snow just to kill a plant and bring it home as a trophy. He’d probably have a point.

Jim knocked their arms together. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm.”

It was practically flirting and it was definitely embarrassing when Spock pressed his arm against Jim’s like he thought Jim’s stupid suggestion was actually a good idea.

“I did not anticipate these temperatures,” Spock said, voice muffled by the scarf around his mouth.

“Yeah, the Midwest doesn’t fuck around,” Jim said on laugh as he heard his mother declare she’d found The Tree. He nudged Spock with his elbow and they skirted around a few saplings, watching as Frank began cutting down a five footer.

Several minutes later, his mom and Frank hefted the thing back to the cottage, refusing Jim’s offers for help. Spock trudged behind them and the minute they got inside, he drifted towards the fireplace and turned it on, not even removing his coat as he tried to warm his hands.

His mom wrestled the tree into the corner as Frank disappeared into the basement. Drawn by Spock, as he often was, Jim came up beside him and asked, “Doing alright?”

“My temperature is suboptimal. However, the warmth provided by the hearth is improving my condition.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile at Spock’s very, well,  _ Spock-like _ response. “I’ll make you some tea. Warm you from the inside out.”

Spock nodded, still staring into the fire, so Jim went off to the kitchen and boiled water, tea for Spock, hot cocoa for himself.

Somewhere in the living room, his mother clicked on Christmas music loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. Jim wondered if Spock had ever heard that sort of music before. In a lot of ways, Spock was familiar with Terran tradition but Christmas was one of those that he’d confided in Jim to be less familiar with. As he’d said to Jim’s mom, his mother had been Jewish and Christmas was definitely not a Vulcan holiday.

Returning to Spock’s side, Jim encouraged him to remove his gloves and coat, taking them away and hanging them in the hall closet before returning to find Spock already cuddling up with the mug of tea, seated on the chair closest to the fire and starting to look less like he might freeze to death. 

“What tea is this?” Spock asked, eyeing the drink with interest.

“Chai spice,” Jim answered. “You said you liked cinnamon so…”

“Thank you,” Spock said before slurping some more of the liquid. It was adorable and Jim had to hide his blush behind his mug of cocoa because the effect Spock had on him was that damn embarrassing.

Frank reappeared with a battered old box. Jim recognized it instantly, and the part of him that was still a starry-eyed, hyperactive kid wanted him to get up and tear it open. Christmas ornaments.

His mom clapped her hands and turned to the room at large. “Time to decorate!”

This was one of Jim’s favorite parts of the holiday. Yeah, it might be a little childish but it was the part that always felt the most joyful. Something about working together with your loved ones to create something new out of all these battered ornaments.

“Want to help?” Jim asked, arching one brow in question at Spock who set aside his tea and stood.

“I am amenable,” Spock declared and that made Jim laugh because he sounded like he was about to go into the dentist.

It was strange to have Spock at his side, passing him ornaments, leaning in close, and pointing out places where  _ according to Terran aesthetic ideals placement would be optimal _ . Jim thought their fingers brushed once but there was no way. He must have been caught up in the moment and imagined that sparking feeling that passed over his hand.

The whole scene would be perfect if Spock was actually his boyfriend and not just his friend doing this weirdly romantic thing together while his mom assumed they were dating. He wondered when would be the best time to break it to her. 

Part of him wanted to wait until after they’d left. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of his mom’s stilted apologies and the inevitable tension that would form between him and Spock who seemed oddly complacent about the miscommunication.

Once the tree was declared complete, Frank took the kitchen to prepare dinner, leaving Jim’s mom to entertain them.

She took a seat on the couch nearest the fire and Jim was once more surprised when Spock sat next to him, not even leaving a cushion between them. He close enough that their knees touched. Shouldn’t Spock be uncomfortable? Before Jim could comment, his mom asked, “So how’d you two finally get together? Jim didn’t exactly explain.”

She gave Jim a long suffering look, affection in her eyes. Jim was about to protest, but Spock was already replying.

“We have worked together for some time as I am sure Jim has told you,” Spock said in his usual clipped tones and Jim tried to not let the way Spock said his name warm him too much. “I believe we mutually discovered our affinity for each other and our relationship has developed from there.”

Wow, what a smooth way to make a friendship sound vaguely romantic. Jim could only suppose that Spock was going along with it to save face. Whose, he didn’t know.

Jim’s mom nodded. “It was like that for me and George at the Academy. We worked so well together that it sort of made sense to just get together.”

“And Jim’s stepfather?” Spock asked.

Damn, he was good at this small talk thing. Who’d have thought? 

Jim’s mom barked out a laugh. “Totally different. We met on one of those dating sites if you’d believe it.”

“It is fortunate that you have found each other,” Spock said diplomatically.

Winona smiled. “Yeah, I like to think so.”

Jim’s mom continued to pepper Spock with questions and Spock, to Jim’s shock, seemed happy to play along, answering them all easily and including Jim in the conversation in a way that felt intimate. As if he was saying,  _ you can answer for me and I can answer for you. We are here together. _

Eventually, Frank declared dinner ready and Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when he stood up from the couch and felt Spock’s hand brush over his elbow — like he was trying to escort Jim to the dining room. What the hell?

Not wanting to offend him, Jim didn’t jump away but it turned out the gesture was more of an acknowledgment and less Spock trying to lead him like some Victorian lady at a dinner party. Spock had taken to being a bit more tactile over the last few months, relaxing in Jim’s presence, but Jim didn’t want to overstep. It was good enough that Spock seemed comfortable around him. That they were really friends.

Spock’s odd behavior continued over dinner. Jim started to wonder if it was some manifestation of his discomfort. Like he was overcompensating for the fact that there had been a misunderstanding.

It was straight up weird.

Every time Jim asked for anything, Spock rushed to get it. Well as much as a Vulcan could rush. Be it more water, another helping of potatoes, and even salt which Spock knocked over in his haste to give it to Jim.

“Yeah,” Jim said slowly as he took the salt shaker. “...Thanks?”

Spock’s cheeks were a little green when he nodded.

Winona and Frank looked at each other like Jim and Spock were the cutest thing they’d ever seen. It was embarrassing.

So it was with relief that Jim accepted Frank’s request to go into town and pick up more coffee for the following morning. He hadn’t exactly expected Spock to come with him, but the Vulcan was by his side, bundling up at the door before Jim could even ask if Frank wanted medium or dark roast.

“Are you alright?” Jim asked when the car door was shut behind him and the heat was blasting. Spock was not-so-subtly holding his fingers in front of the vent.

“I am adequate. Why do you ask?” Spock asked, staring ahead and stilling like he was trying to do his best impression of a statue.

“You’re being all…” Jim cast about for the right word as he turned out of the driveway and headed into town. It was after seven on Christmas eve, and Jim hoped the stores would still be open. “I don’t know but you’re acting pretty high strung. Are you stressed about being around my family? Say the word and we can leave.”

Jim wondered if he was hoping Spock would say yes for Spock’s sake or his own 

“I am not stressed,” Spock replied and if Jim didn’t know better he’d think he sounded disappointed.

“Is that a ‘not stressed’ because you’re Vulcan thing or a ‘generally I’m ok’ thing?” Jim asked because he couldn’t resist needling Spock a  _ little _ .

Spock let out a long breath through his nostrils. “The latter.”

“Alright then,” Jim said as he pulled them into the little parking lot of the market in what he could only think of as a one horse town.

Or rather, a three bar, one market town. And oddly enough a pizza place.

“You coming in?” Jim asked before killing the engine. Spock nodded so they hopped out together, shuffling over the frozen concrete and going into the shop, too bright in the cold blue night. At least it was open, Jim thought as Spock held open the door for him.

While Jim contemplated the coffee, Spock opened his mouth and then closed it again. He was standing a little closer to Jim than usual. Looking at him askance, Jim pretended to be very interested in the description of the particular coffee beans as roasted in Chippewa Falls. “Got something to say?”

Spock’s mouth settled into a firm line. “No,” he said flatly so Jim dropped the topic.

Ten minutes and a pound of coffee later, Jim was lingering in the cold wind with his hand on the driver’s side door staring at Spock over the roof of the car. Something was going on and Jim would be damned if he didn’t figure it out.

He opened the door and tossed the coffee inside. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bar across the street with the aptly titled “Bar” sign above the door, icicles dripping in long shards from the flickering sign. It probably had some other name but it apparently didn’t see any reason to advertise it.

Spock followed after him and when Jim shrugged off his coat in the warm interior of the bar, Spock did the same. 

Approaching the wooden bar, Jim gestured for a bartender, who, with only a mildly curious look, got them two whiskeys.

Spock eyed him warily as Jim led him to a table at the back of the bar. Pushing a glass into Spock’s hands, Jim said, “Here’s another Christmas tradition.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow. “Patronizing a dilapidated establishment with the purpose of obtaining alcoholic substances?”

Jim laughed. He couldn’t help it. Why did Spock have to be so damn cute? “Something like that. I was going to say, avoiding families and getting drunk with a friend.”

He slammed back his shot of whiskey and then gestured for Spock to do the same. Jim felt a thrill of success when Spock followed his lead, grimacing only a little as the whiskey burned down his throat.

“Now you’re getting it.”

* * *

Four shots later and Jim was drunk. He was having some difficulty telling if Spock was drunk too since he was doing his normal Spock-is-a-statue act, but his eyes looked brighter and his face greener so Jim had some hope. 

See, if Spock was drunk then he would loosen up and explain to Jim what the fuck was going on. He’d say that Jim was misunderstanding, that Spock was trying to be a good guest — like that explained anything.

“So,” Jim began, mouth feeling gummy from the whiskey. “What’s really going on, Spock?”

“Please be more specific.”

And he  _ was _ slurring a bit. Or at least it seemed like he was. Maybe that was just Jim’s alcohol-impaired hearing.

“You! With all the helping and being nice and stuff,” Jim said, narrowing his eyes at Spock who stared placidly back.

“I am merely trying to be a good guest — ”

“I knew you’d say that,” Jim said, slamming his hand flat on the table between them. 

“And?” Spock said, stuttering over the word enough that Jim just knew he was drunk.

Jim stared at him for a beat too long and then tore his gaze away. “Fine. Don’t tell me but I’m gonna get it out of you one way or another.”

Spock fluttered his eyelashes at him — damn, Jim hadn’t even known he could do that — and changed the subject with ease. Smooth bastard.

“Your mother is very kind,” Spock said, sipping on the water he had demanded. Well, asked for. Spock wasn’t actually demanding.

Usually.

Jim laughed. “Yeah, I thought you two would get along. She’s all planning and brains. Just like you.”

Spock’s hand came to rest on the table, oddly close to Jim’s. If Jim just stretched his pinky out then he could —

“But you do not approve of your step-father,” Spock said, not even making it sound like a question.

Jim wrinkled his nose, mind turning from his little hand holding fantasies to Frank. Not his favorite thing to think about. “He’s alright, it’s just — I don’t know. I came back for leave and my mom was married to the guy. I didn’t even know him. And he’s always so  _ smarmy _ .”

Spock considered that for a moment. Licked his lips — oh, fuck — and said, “While I will defer to your judgment in such matters, I do not believe your stepfather to be insincere in his behavior.”

Jim didn’t like that very much, the implication that he’d been unfairly judging Frank made him uncomfortable.

“Less serious talk, more booze,” Jim said instead of responding to Spock. He didn’t exactly want to bear his soul in a dingy bar — called Bar — in Cedar Grove. 

They ended up drinking for a while longer, both switching to water before Jim relived his wild youth by trying to dance on a table or something. Eventually, they started playing chess on Jim’s padd and it turned out Jim’s normal strategies worked way better when Spock was drunk. And they worked when he was sober too. Which basically meant Jim wiped the board with him. 

“Perplexing,” Spock said but it sounded more like  _ perpeshing  _ which nearly had Jim in fits.

Then it was last call and Jim realized belatedly he had not made a plan for getting home. Bundling up best he could, he turned to Spock and said, “Get ready, we’re walking home.”

The stumbling half a mile out of town to the cabin was frigid but at some point, Spock’s arm had wound around his so that they were pressed together, leaning into each other, just like in the forest when his mom chopped down their tree. 

* * *

Jim woke up on top of Spock. 

To be fair, he’d gone to sleep drunk and apparently Drunk Jim had decided that sleeping in his underpants next to Spock was A-OK and now his bare chest was pressed against Spock’s who seemed to have made a similar decision.

He tried to pull away but found himself held in place by the heavy arm of a half-asleep Spock. Jim grunted and then Spock released him, blinking at him sleepily. Falling onto his back, Jim scrambled to apologize. “Fuck, Spock, I’m sorry. I’m like an octopus when I’m drunk — ”

Spock interrupted him with a careful hand on his forearm. His fingers were cool and their touch sent an unexpected thrill through Jim. “Jim, I — ”

A knock at the door followed by his mother’s crisp yell made Jim sit up straight. “Shit, what time is it?”

Spock blinked at him but Jim was already on his feet, tossing on an old shirt before yanking open the door.

His mom looked between him and Spock, and given their general states of undress he didn’t exactly begrudge her when she smirked.

“C’mon you layabouts. It’s Christmas.”

Jim groaned and rubbed at his forehead. Tradition or no, getting plastered the day before Christmas was never a good idea.

“I’ve got some hypos in the bathroom if you need some,” his mom said conspiratorially. “Looks like you had a fun night.”

Jim waved his mom off and went to the bathroom where he brushed the grime from his teeth and found a shower did wonders for making him feel less like roadkill.

When he came out of the bathroom toweling his hair, Spock was still in bed and still shirtless and looking at him expectantly. Now that the light was on, Jim could see the dusting of black hair over his chest, the sinewy muscles of his arms. 

He thought he might pass out.

“Shower’s yours,” he squeaked before rushing from the room, thankful he’d had the forethought to change in the bathroom.

He thought he heard Spock sigh but he must have been imagining things.

* * *

Jim opened up his present from Frank and looked down at it in shock. 

“Is this — ”

“You mom said you liked books. The paper kind,” Frank said and for the first time in the two years Jim had known him, he looked nervous.

Jim had been looking for a paper copy of  _ The Martian Chronicles  _ for years. He stroked the cover and looked back at Frank. His throat felt a bit tight. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Thanks. This is — it’s nice of you.”

The nervousness disappeared from Frank’s expression and was replaced by his normal jovial smile. Jim realized suddenly that maybe Frank wasn’t so bad. He was trying and maybe Jim...had been a bit of a jerk.

Then Jim was opening Spock’s present which shouldn’t have made his heart race but did. It was...socks.

He looked up at Spock with a wry smile. Not fancy or attention grabbing, but unarguably necessary. That was Spock all over.

“I have noticed you frequently misplace your socks,” Spock explained and Jim wanted to kiss him right there.

“Glad you’re paying attention to my feet, Spock,” Jim replied, a little tongue in cheek.

Spock stared at him, unblinking and Jim forced himself to look away. Did they just have a romantic moment over socks?

Jim’s own gift to Spock — a subscription to a botany journal that Jim had worried needlessly about for too long — was received with a grateful nod of the head. His mom gave them both sweaters.

Spock, to Jim’s surprise, pulled his on immediately, the deep sage green making him look more alien. Which did all sorts of crazy things to Jim’s stomach.

_ Kiss him. Just fucking kiss him _ .

Apparently, sweaters — or maybe Spocks in sweaters — really did it for him.

Or socks. Maybe it was the socks.

* * *

Spock was touching him again.

Ok not  _ touching him _ . But he was in Jim’s space. They were seated on the couch as his mom put on a Christmas movie and their elbows were basically  _ kissing _ . 

Jim wanted to scoot away because he was fairly certain he was projecting very inappropriate thoughts about how much he wanted Spock to put his arm around him.. But he also desperately did  _ not _ want to scoot away, for the exact same reason.

It was just that, Spock was warm, and he smelled like crisp apples and Jim wanted to lean in and let their elbows knock together. 

His mom and Frank were huddled up on the love seat, looking very snuggly under a blanket. Jim didn’t feel his usual irritation at their intimacy. It was just his mom and the man she apparently loved.

He guessed it was the first step in letting his resentment go. He wanted his mom to be happy and it seemed like Frank made it happen. 

He sighed and then felt a light touch to his knee. 

Now he didn’t have to question if Spock was touching him on purpose because when he turned his head, Spock was giving him an inquisitive look, almost concerned. Jim gave him a little smile, trying to make sure he knew everything was fine.

Spock nodded as if in understanding.

But he didn’t take away his hand.

* * *

Getting ready for bed created entirely new challenges. After sitting through a movie with Spock’s hand on his knee, Jim was so keyed up he thought he might buzz out of his skin. He’d had to sit there and wonder when Spock would take his hand away, try not to focus too hard on how warm Spock was and whether he meant it the way Spock was beginning to think he meant all these strange touches.

He tried to keep his heart rate under control as he danced around Spock when they almost knocked into each other by the dresser.

When Jim laid down in bed, Spock was still sitting up with his padd. Rolling onto his side, Jim stared at him, the long line of his nose, the pink-green flush of his lips. Spock finally turned his attention to Jim.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Hey Spock,” Jim said as if Spock wasn’t already looking at him.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock said and Jim got that little thrill at hearing his name in that even baritone.

“Tell me if I’m way off base here but…”

Spock turned more fully towards him, setting the padd in his lap as if to give Jim his full attention.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and pushed through. “Are you coming onto me?”

When he popped one eye open, Spock was staring at him, brow furrowed. “Please clarify.”

Bad time to use a euphemism then. 

“Uh...are you — with all the touching, are you, ya know, interested in me?” Jim winced. “Romantically?”

“Yes. Was that not clear?” Spock asked.

Jim felt the breath whoosh out of him. “What?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. For all he’d asked, he hadn’t actually expected Spock to say  _ yes. _

Spock moved to match his posture. “I determined my feelings for you were of a romantic nature approximately 8.6 months. However, when I attempted to transition our relationship from the platonic, you were oddly unresponsive despite the fact that I have been aware of your regard for the last year.”

“The last year?” Jim choked out.

Spock continued as if Jim hadn’t just had an embolism right in front of him. “For the last 4.2 months I have been attempting to escalate our relationship by expressing my affections in the traditional Terran manner.”

Oh, fuck had that been what Spock’s werid behavior had been about? Jim had noticed when Spock started asking him to share meals and more chess games and he’d thought it was just an overt gesture of friendship. At the time he’d tried not to read into it the way he desperately wanted to. But apparently, he should have read  _ more _ into it.

“Buddy, you missed the mark,” Jim said, finding his words finally.

Spock blinked.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Jim said. “That’s a bit more traditional too. If you’re really going for it.”

“I am, as you say, going for it,” Spock said and then he put an arm around Jim’s waist and tugged him across the bed.

And then Spock was kissing him, parting his mouth just right before pushing him back against the pillows and climbing on top of him.

And then they weren’t just kissing. They were downright making out and Spock’s hands were under his shirt. Weren’t Jim’s hands supposed to be under  _ Spock’s _ shirt? Once upon a time he would have bet dollars to donuts he had more experience than Spock and yet it wasn’t Jim who was sliding their tongues together and trying to tear off their clothes.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jim said when Spock finally pulled away to trail kisses over his neck. “We’re not having sex right now.”

With an impatient grunt, Spock sat up and Jim’s cock protested his decision immediately. Fuck Spock looked good. Lips green from kissing, hair a wild mess. His pants were rucked low and Jim wanted to bite the trail of black hair that disappeared into his waistband.

“I have been attempting to consummate our relationship for 4.2 months. Do you not believe that is long enough to wait?” Spock said and then his hands were back under Jim’s shirt which was unfairly distracting.

Jim squirmed away. “It’s not so much the waiting it’s the where. We are literally in my  _ mother’s  _ house.”

Spock grunted and went to climb off of him. 

“Hold up there,” Jim said, grabbing his hips. “I said no sex. Not no kissing. Kissing’s good.”

Spock kissed him again.

“Way good,” Jim said into his mouth.

* * *

It turned out spending a week at your mother’s house in the middle of nowhere while the person you’d been pining over for months finally decides to make a move does wonders for cracking even Jim’s resolve.

He only regretted it a little when his mom passed him a bowl of fruit at breakfast on the fifth day of their stay and asked lightly, “You boys sleep well last night?”

Jim turned pink as Spock munched on his cantaloupe in pleased silence.


End file.
